


Believe Me, I Love You

by AnonymousDandelion



Series: Hallie and the Ineffables: Being the Adventures of an Angel, a Demon, and a Dog [2]
Category: Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (as per my usual), (can be read as platonic or romantic or anywhere else on the spectrum), (the important thing is it's love), Aziraphale Can Sense Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Communication, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, Feels, Fluff, Footnotes, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Trust, but not crowley's, but then again that is the entire premise of this story, the dog loves them both, these tags say "love" too many times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28574745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousDandelion/pseuds/AnonymousDandelion
Summary: “I’m sorry," said Aziraphale. "It’s just that it’s been a rather long time since anyone…ah, never mind that. It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all.”“A pleasant feeling,” Crowley echoed. There was a very, very strange expression on his face. “A pleasant feeling. To be… loved?”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Hallie and the Ineffables: Being the Adventures of an Angel, a Demon, and a Dog [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061846
Comments: 30
Kudos: 104
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Believe Me, I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Backstory: I had an idea for the next ficlet in my [Dialogue Prompt Fills](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996120) series. Alas, said ficlet was apparently uninterested in cooperating enough to be written. But in the process of _attempting_ to write it, I accidentally ended up with this short prequel to the original idea. Go figure. Recalcitrant prompt fill notwithstanding, this should be able to stand alone.
> 
> Also: Featuring the return of Hallie the dog! Mostly as a plot device, but still, she's back. You absolutely do not have to be familiar with the first work in the series in order to read this; all the context you need is that Aziraphale and Crowley adopted a dog they call Hallie. But if you're curious about how that came to be (and in the mood for some ridiculous ineffables), feel free to take a look at [Man's (and Demon's and Angel's) Best Friend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25153165) ('twas my second-ever GO fic!).
> 
> And yes, I'm well aware that this particular trope has probably been done six thousand times already, but... time for #6001, I suppose? Apparently I have a thing for the Aziraphale-can-sense-love concept, because this is at least my third headcanon variation thereon. Here we go.

Aziraphale came into the back room to find Crowley and Hallie both half-asleep in their accustomed spots — demon among the cushions on the sofa, dog on her own cushion on the floor.

He took a minute just to enjoy the sight of Crowley’s comfortable sprawl. Then the sound of a tail thumping the carpet in lazy greeting brought Aziraphale’s attention to bear on the third, and furriest, occupant of the room. He smiled to himself.

The bookshop felt cozier than ever since Hallie had come home. Best of all, of course, was the fact that the three of them had taken to spending most of their time together. And, nearly as wonderful as that[1]…

“You look like you’re thinking something happy,” Crowley commented from the couch.

Aziraphale jumped, then settled. “I am. Hallie.”

Crowley raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Anything specific? Or just Hallie in general? I do grant you, Hallie in general is pretty happy.”

Aziraphale hesitated. He usually tried to avoid bringing up this particular topic to Crowley.[2] At best, it was awkward and stirred up pointless wishes long laid to rest; at worst, Aziraphale always worried that he would inadvertently strike a nerve by reminding Crowley of an ability lost in the Fall.

Still, in this case Crowley had directly _asked._ And Aziraphale had decided, not long after Armageddon, that it was well past time he made being honest with Crowley an ongoing priority.

So now, he glanced down at Hallie again — as if he needed confirmation of what he was about to say, as if the proof wasn’t glowing and dancing and resonating, with all the steadfast simplicity that only a dog could ever manage, all around him[3] — glanced back over at Crowley, and explained, “You see, she loves me.”

Crowley emitted a striking series of consonants.

Aziraphale resisted the impulse to go on the defensive. “I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s been a rather long time since anyone…ah, never mind that. It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all.”

“A pleasant feeling,” Crowley echoed. There was a very, very strange expression on his face. “A pleasant feeling. To be… loved?”

“Yes, well.” Aziraphale winced. "I _am_ sorry, dear. But you did ask, or I wouldn’t have…”

“You said it’s been a long time,” Crowley interrupted. “Since… since anyone…?” He trailed off, apparently unable even to say the word.

“Since anyone loved me, yes.” Aziraphale sighed. He’d long since come to terms with the reality, and tried not to think about it too much. Most of the time, it hardly ached at all. But he was neither used to nor prepared for needing to put it into words. “I try not to let humans get too attached, when I can help it. It only makes things complicated, and it always causes pain in the end. Oscar was the last. And it’s not as if there were non-humans who would love me. Heaven… well, Heaven. And I never had a pet before. So, yes, I suppose that would make it a bit over a century now.”

He was taken aback by the absolutely anguished look on Crowley’s face. “Aziraphale. Angel, I… I don’t…”

Oh, no. This was the last thing Aziraphale had wanted — Crowley feeling guilty for something that was, after all, entirely out of his control. “It’s perfectly fine, dear boy,” he hastened to assure the demon. “Don’t worry. I know that you can’t, and I never expected it of you. I am more than content with your… with whatever you _are_ able to feel for me.[4] No matter what that may or may not be.”

Crowley was gaping at him. “Aziraphale…”

“It’s all right. I told you, I understand. And I don’t mind.[5]”

“But,” said Crowley. “But I _do_ love you.”

Aziraphale did a double take. “Don’t say that!”

“But I Iove you,” said Crowley again. “I would have told you before. I thought you knew.”

Aziraphale took a step backwards. “Please don’t lie about this. Don’t… just don’t. That’s not funny. It’s not kind.”

“You think I’m _lying?”_ Crowley objected.[6] “You can’t— you must know! I lo—”

 _“Stop,”_ Aziraphale begged.

Crowley stopped, lips parted and eyes wide. Those eyes, and the emotions in them, were bare and raw. He didn’t look like he was trying to make fun, Aziraphale thought. And it wasn’t like Crowley to be deliberately cruel.

What if Crowley thought, somehow, that falsely claiming to love would make _Aziraphale_ feel better? What if he thought, even after so long, that Aziraphale would still hold Crowley’s demonic nature against him? It hurt just to consider the notion — surely Crowley knew better than that? — but then again, in the centuries before the world didn’t end Aziraphale hadn’t exactly given Crowley much reason to trust him to accept Crowley for himself…

And it made far more sense than any other explanation that came to mind.

Spurred by that terrible revelation, Aziraphale crossed the room to the sofa and sat down so he could take Crowley’s right hand in his own. The demon jolted, then stilled, and didn’t make any effort to remove his hand. It was, Aziraphale noticed with a stab of concern, shaking slightly. Aziraphale lifted his other hand as well, cupping Crowley’s between them.

“My dear,” Aziraphale said. Gently, quietly, seriously. Willing his words to be heard and understood. “I meant it when I said that I don’t mind. I know that demons can’t feel love, and I know that you are a demon, and believe me when I say that that has no impact whatsoever on my feelings towards you. I lo— I care[7] for _you,_ as you are, demon and all. But you can’t lie to me about love.”

Crowley opened his mouth as if to say something.

Aziraphale hastened to go on before he could be interrupted. “You shouldn’t, and anyway, you _can’t_. I can sense it, remember? If you loved me, I would be able to tell. You don’t, and that’s all right. But I don’t want you to try to pretend otherwise.”

“I know you can sense it.” There was a tremor in Crowley’s voice. “‘S why I thought you knew already. Thought I didn’t need to bother with saying it. But, but you went all this time thinking you… thinking nobody…”

“Crowley…”

Crowley brought his left hand up to join the others, clutching Aziraphale’s like a vise. “I’m not lying, angel. I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about this.[8] Please. Please believe _me.”_

Aziraphale swallowed.

He knew Crowley, better than anyone. He trusted Crowley, viscerally. He believed Crowley, instinctually.

But…

“I believe that you aren’t lying to me,” Aziraphale said — and meant it, because how could he not? “But… but that doesn’t mean it’s true. Could it be…” He hated to suggest that Crowley couldn’t correctly interpret his own emotions. But it was the only thing left that seemed possible. “People sometimes have difficulty telling the difference, between love and… and other feelings. It’s normal, nothing to be ashamed of. Could it perhaps be that you only _think_ you love me?”

Crowley stiffened, eyes flaring with outrage. “I don’t just _think_ it!” he snapped… and then, almost immediately, deflated. “Look. I’m not an adolescent with a passing infatuation, Aziraphale.[9] I’ve had thousands of years to figure this out.[10] I know the difference. I do. I _know_ it. I know I love you.”

And how, Aziraphale asked himself again, could he not believe? How could he not believe, when he knew — knew and, yes, loved — Crowley so well? How could he not believe, after everything they had been through together? How could he not believe, when Crowley was holding his hands, looking at him, _pleading_ with him, with such open, exposed, undoubtable earnesty?

How could he not believe?

He found no answer.

“But I can’t feel it,” Aziraphale whispered. “How can you love me, if I can’t feel it?”

“I don’t know.” Crowley shook his head. “‘M sorry. All I know is that I love you.”

There were ways, Aziraphale knew, that humans identified their love for each other. Ways that relied on evidence outside of the kind supplied by a celestial sixth sense.[11] If applying any of those Earthly metrics to Crowley, Aziraphale had little doubt as to what the unanimous verdict would be.

And in the end, did it matter why Aziraphale couldn’t sense Crowley’s love? In the end, did it matter whether the fault lay in Crowley’s demonic nature, or in Aziraphale’s angelic abilities, or in something else altogether? In the end, did it matter if Aziraphale could sense Crowley’s love, as long as Crowley was there to say it and show it?

In the end, how could Aziraphale not believe?

Aziraphale sighed, and looked Crowley in the eyes, and pressed their hands tighter together. “Well, then. If you’re certain, I believe you.”

Crowley’s eyes shone.

“Does this mean,” Aziraphale murmured at last, “that you wouldn’t be upset if I said I love you too?”

Crowley made an incoherent sound. Aziraphale squeezed his fingers.

Finally, Crowley said, “Guess I wouldn’t be upset, if it was true. _I_ can’t sense it, you know.”

“Well, then,” said Aziraphale for a second time. “Then you’ll just have to believe me, too. I love you.”

Crowley quaked, and abruptly released his hands.

Aziraphale had time for one instant of intense bereavement. Then Crowley’s arm was coming around his shoulders, pulling him in for a seated hug, and Aziraphale determined that this was a more than acceptable replacement for hand-holding.

It was very possible that they might never have let go, if Hallie hadn’t woken up and come to claim a belly rub.

“By the way,” Aziraphale told Crowley — and revelled in the freedom of speaking the truth uncensored, the truth that danced in the aether around them even as Aziraphale’s heart danced within him and even as Crowley’s eyes danced in front of him — “Hallie loves you too.”

**Footnotes**

1 Nearly, but not _quite_ as wonderful, simply because nothing could ever _quite_ compare to the wonderfulness of having Crowley around almost every day, with no need to fear outside surveillance.[return to text]

2 Especially given that the last time Aziraphale had attempted to do so, the Bentley had crashed into a biker. (And/or a biker had crashed into the Bentley.)[return to text]

3 And, for that matter, all around Crowley, too. Not that Aziraphale would ever say so to Crowley, for fear of upsetting him.[return to text]

4 Several decades past, after a bookbag survived a bomb and the nature of his own feelings refused to go unrecognized any longer, Aziraphale had spent some time trying to put a name to whatever it was that kept Crowley coming back to him. Familiarity? Fondness? Caring? Eventually, Aziraphale had come to the conclusion that it didn’t matter if he ever found an adequate word for it, so long as it meant that Crowley stayed in his life. [return to text]

5 This was… mostly… true. Which was not to say that Aziraphale never had his idle moments of dreaming of the impossible. But he’d long ago made his peace with the knowledge that such dreams were exactly that: impossible.[return to text]

6 The fact that Crowley did not take advantage of this golden opportunity to insist upon his lack of kindness was a noteworthy indication of just how committed he was to this conversation.[return to text]

7 The last thing he needed right now was to make Crowley feel worse about being unable to reciprocate. Aziraphale had resolved in 1941 that he would never make Crowley uncomfortable by admitting to loving the demon. There were moments when that resolution had been exceedingly hard to keep — moments involving a thermos, a bandstand, an airfield, the Ritz, just to name a few — but, thus far, Aziraphale had always succeeded in keeping it.[return to text]

8 _I would never lie to you about anything important,_ Crowley didn’t say, but the meaning was there in any case, loud and clear.[return to text]

9 Crowley was not, and never had been, an adolescent. He _was,_ arguably, extremely infatuated. After six thousand years, however, it seemed safe to assume that said infatuation was there to stay.[return to text]

10 Which was a lucky thing, because it had in fact taken Crowley thousands of years to figure it out.[return to text]

11 Or, perhaps more accurately, a celestial approximately-sixteenth sense. Celestial beings possess quite a number of superordinary perceptual capabilities.[return to text]

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you liked this and feel like sharing any thoughts, comments mean a lot to me (I've also been struggling with inspiration/confidence to write lately, so hearing from readers would be especially motivating right now). Either way, as always, thanks for reading. And happy belated new year — I hope 2021 is being kind to you thus far.


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